Grocery List
by cuter-than-a-guinea-pig
Summary: Set sometime between The Quarterback and Nationals, Blaine heads over to the Hummel house after school to see how Carol's doing and if she needs anything. They spend the afternoon baking.


**A/N: I haven't written in so long. School's been crazy but now I only have one exam to go and then I graduate with a chem undergrad. Anyways, it felt good to get back to fics. This one was certainly interesting to write. I felt like it could have turned into some weird milf/pool boy thing at times but I like how it turned out. Let me know what you think!  
-Katie **

"Sure you can't come grab coffee?" Tina asked again once they had reached his car in the student parking lot. "We need songs, Blaine." The forlorn look on her face was rather pathetic and usually he would cave to her sad eyes but there was someone that needed him more today.

"Tomorrow. Promise. We still have three weeks," Blaine said apologetically, opening the car door and climbing in after throwing his book bad onto the passenger seat.

"You suck."

"Love you too, Tina," he called, shutting his door and smiling brightly at her put on petulant pout.

He pulled up to the familiar house not ten minutes later. As he hoped, the rusted through grey Volkswagen was resting peacefully in the driveway. Everything seemed peaceful. The cherry blossom tree that took residence on the front lawn was in full bloom and provided a dusty pink shade for the car, the house, and the birds chirping happily within its branches. Everything seemed as it should be which made it all that more unsettling. Nonetheless, he walked up to the front door, picking up the local afternoon paper on the porch, and rang the bell. The wait was usually short and accompanied by the faint sound of the game coming from the living room TV and some sort of slightly louder defensive remark concerning grooming habits or wardrobe choices. Today, it was silent. No one came to the door. Blaine had a hunch though. With the amount of time he had spent at the house trying to get alone time with Kurt, work schedules had been memorized quicker than the lyrics to the newest Katy Perry song. Wednesdays never worked before which meant they were perfect now. Plus, of course, the car was in the driveway. So not willing to believe there was no one home just yet, Blaine made his way around back to the glass kitchen door. He knocked softly, peering in and seeing Carol standing at the counter, a book opened on the granite surface in front of her. She looked up suddenly at the noise but returned his friendly smile as she made her way across the kitchen to let him in.

"Hi, honey. It's good to see you," she greeted, accepting his hug.

"It's good to see you too. I hope I didn't startle you."

"No, no. Just spaced out a little. It's easier to slip away these days," she admitted, her face dropping a little. "But you don't need to worry about that. Come in, come in," she beckoned. "Although, Sam's not here I'm afraid."

"Oh, uh I actually came over to see you," he said, punctuating it with a signature charming smile.

"Me?"

"To see how you're doing and all. If there was anything you needed."

"Oh, honey, you don't need to do that. Aren't you busy with school and all. Graduation is just around the corner."

"School's fine. With Kurt gone, I get a surprising amount of work done," he said with a wink.

"Blaine!" Carol answered but there was a lightness to her voice that was a rarity these days. Closer to her now Blaine could see the grey bags weighing down her bleak eyes. They were probably the most colourful thing about her appearance. Kurt was always the skin person but even Blaine could see that Carol's looked dull, on the verge of dying and joining her spirit. She hadn't been sleeping and probably not eating either. Her hair was on the verge of falling out of the worn out elastic, small, frizzy pieces framing her haggard face. She was still wearing her work scrubs, wrinkled and boxy and simply adding to weight dragging her down into the dark pit she was balancing precariously above.

Obviously, one afternoon couldn't fix this. Nothing really could. A horrible thought considering many say hope is the only thing that can guide someone through something so dark and yet there could be no hope for a different outcome here. One afternoon couldn't hurt though. At least, that was Blaine's philosophy.

"Yeah, maybe don't tell Burt," he relented jokingly, making a detour to the living room to toss the paper on Burt's chair before returning to the kitchen. He walked over to the book that Carol had been reading earlier.

"Your secret's safe."

"Lemon mousse cake?" he asked, reading the recipe on the open page. "Sounds delicious."

"It does, doesn't it? I had a craving at work. The girls were talking." Carol walked back to the island counter and took a seat on the barstool opposite where Blaine was standing. "But after an eight hour shift, you know, seems a little daunting now."

"Daunting? Nonsense. Not with both of us. Now you just sit tight. Rest your feet," he said, turning to the cupboards behind him to gather mixing bowls and measuring cups. "And I'll do all the running around."

"You're too kind for your own good, honey."

"Well you haven't tasted it yet. Kurt always has something to say about my baking," he said heaving the bag of flour onto the counter.

"Kurt always has something to say about something."

"Carol!" Blaine said in mock appal but he couldn't quite hide his chuckle. Especially when she joined him. Seeing some semblance of joy seemed to lighten a burden he hadn't known he was carrying.

"That was mean wasn't it," she laughed, picking up the two cup measure and digging into the flour. "Oh that was mean. He's a sweet boy. You all are. I used to say you boys were keeping me young but now, well now you just might be keeping me alive." The tears welled in her eyes and her voice grew quieter with each word. Her hand trembled as she poured the flour into the bowl. Blaine quickly deposited the sack of sugar and the carton of eggs and dashed around the counter.

"Oh, Carol. Here, here." He wrapped his arms around her shoulders in an awkward side hug. She didn't seem to mind though. Her head came to rest on his shoulder and it stayed there for some time. Blaine could feel the coarseness of her hair on his neck. He made a mental note to ask Kurt to recommend some sort of shampoo or something that could help. Mother's Day was coming up. That might be overstepping or too much too soon though. It was hard to know. He'd have to talk to Kurt and Burt and see what they thought. Though sometimes he wondered if their guess was just as good as his. They had all suffered the loss but she suffered it more. They could empathise but no one could truly stand in her worn out, orthopedic, mothers shoes. It felt like a guessing game at times and one he'd been playing for too long with stakes too high. But he wasn't quitting. Not while he was still needed.

It was quiet except her soft sniffles and the crinkling of her scrubs as he rubbed her arm. It stayed like that for a while. Blaine didn't quite know what to do or what to say so he just squeezed tighter and waited.

"Thank-you, sweetie." She patted his arm and dried her tears. "Oh you shouldn't have to deal with this."

"Neither should you. You are the most wonderful mother I know." It was true too. He had watched her slip seamlessly into Kurt's life and fill that whole in his heart without stepping on toes. And Finn. Well Finn was Finn but he was a good friend to him and good brother to Kurt and Carol deserved the credit for that. "We'll be here as long as you need us. You uh, you want me to finish up the cake and you can go take a nap maybe. I promise I'm not as bad as Kurt makes me out to be."

"No, no. Baking was a good idea. I need the distraction. Tell me about school. I guess you haven't heard back from NYADA yet?" she asked picking the measuring cup back up and burring her arm back into the flour sack.

"No, not yet. Should be two weeks or so."

"That's not very nice of them is it? To keep you kids waiting like that. There's a lot of planning you have to do and you can't start until you know because then it'd be too hard if you don't get in but then you have to wait until the last minute."

"Yeah, I guess. They have a lot of applicants to sift through. And I'm not really sure they care," he said heaving the flour bag back to the cupboard. "I mean with the tuition they charge and all."

"Oh don't get me started on that. I almost passed out when I saw the bill," she joked mixing in the baking soda. "Kurt seems to love it though."

"Oh yeah," Blaine agreed.

"And I guess that makes it worth it."

"Hopefully. I get scared sometimes that my parents will change their minds. They've always pushed med school or business. I feel like they might just be humouring me."

"No sense worrying about it till it happens. Honestly, I'm surprised they even know what your plans are."

"Jeeze Carol, you're hitting hard today."

"I am, aren't I?" she asked seemingly surprised and maybe even a little impressed by herself. She pulled the recipe book closer, double checking the instructions before picking up the second mixing bowl. She brushed a piece of hair, fallen loose from her ponytail, out of her face, streaking a white line of flour across her brow bone. The stark white brought out what little colour remained in her cheeks. Or maybe that was due to the warming kitchen as the oven preheated. "I think I gave some of the girls at work heart attacks. I'm usually the quiet one," she said cracking an egg into the glass bowl.

"It feels good to let it all out. Being polite all the time. Or strong all the time. Just get rid of the filter."

They measured and added, passing the book back and forth. As they finished with eggs, the sugar, the vanilla, Blaine returned them. He held the bowl of dry ingredients for Carol as she scraped them gently into the wet. He gathered the bowl and measuring cups and loaded them in the dishwasher as Carol folded the batter together, careful not to force out all the air. "Death kills all life's filters," she said.

Blaine looked up at her, not sure how to respond. He watched as she dipped her index finger into the thick, pastel yellow mixture. A strong citrus scent filled the small kitchen form the lemon and cut through the sweet sugar. She licked her finger. "Good?" he asked hopeful but not entirely sure for what.

"Bitter sweet relief." She slid the bowl across the counter to him. "Pan's in that bottom cupboard," she pointed. He closed the dishwasher, grabbed the pan, and poured the batter. "Thank-you sweetie, this was nice," she smiled.

"It was my pleasure. I miss baking now that Kurt's gone."

"Well we all miss the eating his baking."

"Very true," he laughed. "You uh, you want to go relax, watch TV or something while I clean up. I can make tea."

"Tea sounds lovely. Kurt's a lucky man," she added, giving him a hug on her way to the living room.

"I'm the lucky one," he called after her.

He wiped down the counters while he waited for the kettle. He poured the boiling water into a mug with a tea bag. He remembered that Carol liked milk in her tea and quickly added it. His eyes immediately found the grocery list on the fridge. He used to do the shopping while Burt was going through chemo. He slipped it from under its magnet and took it out to the living room with Carol's tea. She was sitting propped against the arm of the couch, eyes closed. She had the radio on instead of the TV.

"Classic Rock?" he said setting down the mug on the coffee table next to her.

"Always been my favorite."

He nodded. "I'm going to run out and grab these," he said, waving the list in his hand. "Anything you want me to add?"

"Oh. Uh, no. Not that I can think of. Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. The timer will ding when the cake's ready."

"I'm on it. Thank-you, sweetie."

"Anytime." He gave her a kiss on the cheek and headed to his car. He caught himself humming the tune to the U2 song she had been listening to. It reminded him of Finn. Of course it reminded him of Finn. He probably grew up listening to the same music his mother did. Kurt always said he liked musicals because of his mother. All Blaine could remember his mother liking was spread sheets. He smiled nonetheless. He finally had a decent idea for their nationals set list.


End file.
